Promise
by evening spirit
Summary: Set directly after the credits for "Our Darkest Hour" rolled. Now "The Longest Night" AU. Lots of Morgan!trauma because he suffers so pretty. Ch4: Hotch acts like Morgan's superior, and Emily gets the burnt of Morgan's anger.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclimer:** Not mine. No profit gained.

**Timeframe:** Directly post 'Our Darkest Hour'.

**A/N:** Because the new season is closing and I think that TPTB are going to skip on all the Morgan!trauma and I like me some trauma for some otherwise strong characters - I decided to indulge myself a lil'bit. Perhaps some of you want to indulge with me? Come in, and . . . ekhm . . . enjoy?

**A/N 2: **The first two chapters were written before the Season 6 premiere aired, then . . . I go a bit of an AU.

* * *

**Promise**

"Is that another promise?" he mocks and staggers out, pulling Ellie with him.

Morgan wants to scream but he doesn't. Instead he fingers the leg of the bed for splinters or anything even remotely sharp. Nothing. The leg is smooth and cold. Ellie's aunt screams and sobs. Derek's arms feel like they're about to be riped out from their sockets. The airs smells of unwashed hair and cloths and dirty body and urine and blood.

"Please, somebody . . ." Ellie's aunt wails. "Help . . ."

Derek's head pounds and his side - where the UnSub's boot hit - throbes.

"Shut up," he mutters through clenched teeth and metallic taste of blood on his tongue. "Shut up."

There! On the side of the bed he feels a metallic holder. Its edge is jagged. It should be enough to tear the duck tape, please, please let it be enough.

Once.

And again.

The metal shrads graze Derek's skin but he doesn't feel it, no. Again. Again.

The tape breaks, then some more and finally it snaps. Derek tears his hands free, pulling hair, hitting his elbow, the force of the movement making his over-stretched joints protest with searing pain.

"You did it?" the woman behind his back gasps. "Free me, free me!" she screams and Morgan wants to hit her, wants to hit something, anything.

His legs are still tied.

He turns on his side, then scrambles to his kees which, twisted by the duct-tape, won't hold him steady. They tweak, they hurt, they scream 'no! not like this!' but he has to get up, get himself free. Now!

Before he turns away toward the door he catches her face. The aunt, Spicer's sister. Her eyes huge, almost getting out of their orbits, mouth swollen. Distorted. Her voice like sharp ice-cold knives through his skull, "Free me, freeee meee!" He could cut his restraints with this voice.

"I will," he grunts and pulls his aching body out of the room. Kitchen. There has to be a kitchen in this house. Knives are in the kitchen.

Morgan has to crawl through the hallway. It's dark and narrow and walls are falling on his head, bouncing off with every step he makes. Are the steps made with his palms still steps or should they be called something else? Steps are taken with your feet, not your palms. He's bleeding. He's leaving bloody stains on the carpet, the owners aren't going to be happy . . .

The owner is dead, isn't he? Derek finds it hard to remember, to focus. His head is pounding.

There is a body down the hallway. Dead owner.

Kitchen. He's supposed to find the kitchen.

He looks into the open door on his left, on his right, turns down the corridor and there! There's the kitchen. He can't see what's on the counters from this child-like perspective. A toddler must feel like this, never knowing what's up above. He has to climb up but his hands hurt more and more and his knees are protesting against the strain.

Something wet streams down his cheeks as Morgan grasps the edge of the counter, trying to thrust his fingernails into the hard surface for better support. He pulls and pulls, his head pounding, up inch by inch. Something kicks him in his ribs again but it's just a memory, it's a bruised muscle reacting to the change of position, to the new burden. Something scrapes his underarm – it is torn skin grating against the edge of the counter. He needs to pull all his weight up on his hands, because his knees are tied together so tight, straightening up while supported on them is impossible. His hands almost buckle. He lands face-first almost in the sink.

On the other side, there's the knife-stand.

He can't reach that far, so in the final leap of determination Derek crawls sideways, pulling his legs behind, over the sink until his fingers land on the handle and he pulls the knife from its holder. He sees the sharp glint of the blade and imagines slicing that monster's throat with it. He doesn't shake off that image. Instead he wonders what's happening with the girl right now.

He has to find her!

He can almost feel the filthy fingers touching her in her most secret places, where no one should touch a child. She's delicate, innocent, frightened . . . no.

She's not merely frightened, it's nothing like what Morgan remembers. She's terrified beyond imagination and he must hurry up to save her before it's too late . . .

* * *

may be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So I saw promo pics for the season premiere and I'm all giddy. There actually is some blood on Morgan in them! Eeeeek! In one picture he even looks slightly in pain and dizzy, if you squint. Meanwhile, just to satisfy my need and greed for more trauma than is healthy, I keep writing this story. I'm afraid once the episode has aired I will stop writing it, especially if the epi is good. Really, I don't see PLOT in it, just some mindless whump. On the other hand, maybe the epi will give me some inspiration to go AU. Time will tell. Feel warned.

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!**

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**Promise - chapter two  
**

The phone in his hands trembles, fingers too numb to find the right digits. When he finally speed-dials Hotch all he gets is static. Same with Rossi. With Reid, static turns into a computer-voiced statement about the network overload.

Derek groans loudly.

"Are you there?" he hears a shriek from the other room. Sharp daggers shoot through his skull. The detective's sister, he had nearly forgotten about her!

Shakily, Derek scrambles to his feet. Strange, he can't remember how he cut the duct tape. His head is spinning. He walks back to the bedroom, one hand on the wall for support, the other still attempting to dial. Prentiss - nothing. JJ - nothing. He doesn't dial the one number he may actually get connected to because he doesn't want to frighten her.

911.

Nothing.

"Could you finally cut those! Why are you standing like this? Do something!"

Derek looks up at the woman sitting on the bed. Her face is streaked with tears, lips curved in a crying grimace, hair mussed. She's tied in an awkward position which doesn't allow her to move one way or another. Upon closer examination Derek finds she's also duct-taped to the head of the bed. He left the knife in the kitchen, damn!

Another trip down the hallway. Why is it so far away? And is the floor tilted upwards? By the time he makes it there and back he's sweating and panting. He raises the knife to cut those ties and-

"KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

Bright flashlights make him recoil in pain. Instinctively, he raises his hands, shielding his eyes against the encompassing flood of light. The voices become an incomprehensible blur of high pitch and clanking as someone grabs his arms and tackles him to the floor. His ribs are on fire and his head is about to explode with each thump of his terrified heart.

"Are you police? Sir, are you police?" the question is repeated several times before Morgan grasps its meaning. He's not handcuffed, he sits on the floor his back against the bed. "Have you been hurt? Gary, get the medic over here!"

"I'm fine," Derek groans. He realizes this is the back-up he and Spicer requested before embarking on a lonesome suicide mission of saving the detective's daughter and sister. The monster took the girl with him! Morgan's mind is suddenly clear once he finds his objective. Ellie. The unsub. "Did you get him?"

"No, sir. Could you show me your credentials?" The gun isn't pointed at Morgan but it's close enough to threaten him if he doesn't identify himself, right about now.

Derek leans on his side to reach to the back pocket of his pants and his ribs hurt again, as does his knee. And head, his head is pounding constantly.

"Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," he mumbles, clenching his teeth from the pain and hoping his voice is comprehensible. If not, his badge should be enough.

"Did you get a look at the kidnapper?" another voice asks.

"Where are you hurt?" asks a third voice.

Derek doesn't know which one to answer. His brain processes the importance of the facts but Ellie still has priority over everything else. The kidnapper then. He gives a description while the other person prods and pokes around his body. He winces when it hurts and that's how they know the answer to their question.

"Can you tell us exactly what happened?" the police officer asks now and Derek says they came in with Spicer and . . . and . . .

"He had Spicer at gunpoint," he says hesitantly.

"The other witness says he had the girl," another policeman supplies and Derek has a flash of memory, 'Daddy, help, I can't breathe . . .'

"Yeah, he held Ellie." Damn it, Derek can't remember what happened next. "He took her," but that's not all, something went on in between.

"Can you recall the event?" that's the medic asking but he shouldn't; he's not interrogating him, the police officers are!

"Of course!" Derek snaps at the guy. Of course he can! A bout of anger opens some vaults in his memory. "He told Spicer to drop his gun, or he'll kill the girl but he wouldn't. Spicer wouldn't. He made me promise she would be safe. We need to find her, he took her and . . ." his voice breaks.

"We issued an APB." A heavy palm lands on his arm and Derek realizes he's on his feet, face to face with a concerned officer. "We will get him; it's just a matter of time. We have his description and a description of his van . . ."

"We don't have time!" the despair is uncontrollable.

"Please, can I complete his examination now?" the persistent medic tries to cut in and only makes Morgan angrier.

"No, I'm fine! I need to find the unsub!"

"Easy, man." The hands on Derek's arms are grounding him. "You sustained a head injury. You're in no shape to go after anyone right now. What we need from you is a detailed recollection of the facts. Can you give us that?"

Derek nods and feels like he's about to vomit. The whole world tilts back and forth and then spins around. The detective takes him to another room because they need to process this one for prints and DNA traces. On their way they pass Ellie's aunt.

"He told Matt not to drop the gun, but Matt did. Was that a mistake?" she sobs. Derek doesn't remember himself saying that but somehow he knows it happened. He would have advised that. This unsub really was a coward. And he wasn't killing or raping children . . .

'This one's just . . . special,' rings in his ears and Derek feels the urge to punch something.

* * *

t.b.c.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Here starts "The Longest Night" AU. Follows closely with what happened on-screen, includes most of the dialogue and events from the episode, but I took a different spin on things - I based it on the idea that Morgan's brain injury was a tad more serious than on the show.

* * *

**Promise**

**Chapter Three**

Figuring out why Morgan and Spicer weren't at his sister's place wasn't hard. Hotch, Rossi and Prentiss could easily follow his train of thought. Driving to Santa Monica through all the traffic was a bit more difficult. But the most testing is seeing Morgan battered and not reacting to it.

"He needs CAT scan, stitches and a lot of rest," the paramedic tells them because Morgan is too stubborn to listen to reason.

"I'm not going to any hospital until we find that little girl!" he says in a manner which is almost calm. Morgan-calm. Like an earthquake about to happen.

Hotch knows there's no fighting him in this state. Rossi tries, says, "She's right, Morgan," and all it gets him is a death-glare. So instead the chief of the team asks what happened, he asks for a detailed report. Morgan is prepared, he even wrote down what he remembered. Which isn't little - good sign, considering head injury.

He doesn't speak much, each word followed by a groan and a wince. When he gets up, his stance is uncertain. He happens to do that just as JJ and Reid are coming in and good Spencer is the only one who says out loud what they all think.

"You don't look alright." Leave it to Spencer Reid to always speak up the obvious.

Morgan doesn't allow any concern. "Reid! Drop it." All his concern is on Ellie. He grabs one of the satellite phones JJ provided and storms out of the room. Hotch takes it as his opportunity. Not only to speak to Morgan but to really find out about his condition as well. He catches up with the medic.

"How bad is it, really?" he asks, "In your opinion."

"Honestly," the girl shakes her head, lips pursed in a pissed grimace because Morgan probably wasn't the easiest of patients but her eyes show concern. "I don't know. With the equipment I have, all I can say is that his pupils are equal and reactive and he scores 14 on Glasgow Coma Scale so there seems to be no intracranial bleeding. I can't tell for sure however, not without a brain scan. Besides . . . He's agitated, frantic. I don't know him, is he usually like that? I get it that he's been through emotional trauma, so this might be attributed to that. But such behavior is also a symptom of frontal lobe injury. Changes in personality, social interactions, perception and rationality. You know him better. Watch him and if you think he's not acting like himself, I think you'll need to hurry to get him to a hospital."

Honestly? Hotch feared as much. Morgan's behavior is borderline; it is what Hotch would expect and at the same time he's too uptight, too edgy.

"Call me back on this number as soon as you get a bite," he overhears the end of Morgan's conversation with - presumably - Garcia and again, his voice is strained, which is understandable under the circumstances but this is not how Morgan is with Garcia. There's no tinge of warmth in this voice. "You know," Morgan waves the phone as he notices Hotch staring, "She really needs to be more professional sometimes."

Thousands thoughts race through Hotch's head. Since when were they ever professional in their phone conversations? - being the most pronounced one.

"She gets the job done every time," he tries a rational argumentation. How's Morgan's rationality today?

"I told him, Hotch," Morgan starts out of the blue. "I told him that we should wait for backup and he wouldn't listen to me. We split up and he headed around back before I could stop him."

Ah, so that's where the talk about professionalism stems from! Yeah, unprofessional behavior on their job sometimes gets people killed. How many times had Morgan acted unprofessional though? New York comes to mind first thing, or Miami where he'd stormed the hostel full of kids only with Detective Lopez in tow. He had seen it from the other side last year and apparently now he's allowed to judge. He doesn't take one thing into account though.

"Morgan, sometimes when it comes to family common sense and procedure go out the window," Hotch attempts to explain. "We do the best we can."

Morgan cuts in, "So it's okay now? Why, because you can relate?" And these are exactly the words Hotch haven't expected. "So you think that because _you_ broke the rules, _you_ left common sense behind and bore no consequences for that, then suddenly everyone is forgiven? Damn, maybe Strauss shouldn't have gone so easy on you man!"

"Morgan," Hotch is alarmed. "Do you hear yourself?"

"I do! And I tell you, it's not okay!" Morgan sheds the last of his self-restraint and screams those words. "There is a reason why we step away when there's family involved. Being emotionally invested leads to mistakes and mistakes cost lives!"

Hotch watches his colleague's face contort in pain, more emotional now than physical when the analgesic works, and he knows that the only way from here is to the hospital for that damned CAT scan. He also knows that he may either tackle Morgan and drag his sorry ass by force, or if he's unconscious, but then it may be too late. Or - and that's what he's going to do - he may solve this case faster. For the sake of the girl and to save the life of his friend.

"We're gonna get him, Morgan," he promises softly.

"Well, we'd better do it fast!"

We'd better do it damn fast . . .

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t.b.c.

You know . . . I don't know if you read if you don't review. :) I know this idea may not be everyone's cup of coffee but if you like it, please let me know. It doesn't take long to write, "I like it". ;) (of course I'd be happier if you also told me why you liked it but that's not obligatory ;).


	4. Chapter 4

**Promise**

**Chapter Four**

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When Morgan snaps at Garcia everyone knows that everything is not alright.

"Your 'sorry' isn't helping anybody, I need results!"

Hotch wonders if they are able to deduce how serious things really are and if it's reproach or worry he sees in the eyes of Reid, JJ and Rossi. Then Emily Prentiss hands them a way to contact the unsub and it gives Morgan yet another opportunity to bite their heads off - this time JJ's

"Oh, no," JJ sighs, "The LA PD just put all the information they have out to the press."

"And you didn't stop them?" Morgan lashes right out.

JJ glares at him wide-eyed, "How was I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, you're the media liaison! It's your damn _job_ to control what leaks out to the press! Now this guy knows exactly what we know!"

Those concerns are perfectly valid, just not the way Morgan expresses them.

"It might force him to dump the RV," Rossi tries to cover up the discomfort they all feel but then Reid all but ruins the attempt.

"Or kill-" he starts and catches himself. So not the right thing to say in front of distraught Morgan. In silence Hotch can almost hear the injured agent's heart thumping, each beat forcing more blood to his concussed brain. There has to be a way to placate him, to give him some peace of mind, to ward off the inevitable.

"No," Rossi tries again, this attempt more awkward. "I don't think so." Is it just to stall? Doesn't matter, Hotch is grateful that his older, still more experienced colleague steps in every time he's needed.

Morgan doesn't appreciate it one bit.

"You don't think so!" he mocks. "Based on what? Gut instinct?"

But Rossi has regained his calm already.

"He could have killed you and the sister," he says slowly, meeting Derek's eyes dead-on. Holds his gaze. Won't let go. "He didn't. Kept you alive. He can't be surprised that we know what he's driving and that he has a hostage."

Hotch finds his footing as well.

"Morgan, a word with you," he motions to the other room and walks away, as he hears the others start discussing the possibility of talking to the unsub through the radio. He doesn't look back, he won't take the option of Morgan not following him.

"What?" Morgan barks when the door behind him close.

"You need to calm down," Hotch deadpans.

"Calm down? She's out-"

"Derek! Calm. Down."

They glare at each other, an alpha-male standoff, and Morgan deflates, much faster than Hotch is prepared for. It catches him off-guard, almost makes him take a step, close the distance between them, grab his colleague's shoulders and ask if he's alright. He isn't, Hotch knows that. Not that he would admit. And Hotch needs to be the boss here, not a friend.

"I won't tolerate such actions, Morgan. You need to get a grip."

"Whatever." Morgan sits on the edge of the desk, shoulders slumped, head bowed. "I just-" he hesitates. Did the paramedic say anything about sudden mood changes?

"JJ's onto something." Hotch finds himself next to Morgan despite his better judgment. He lays a hand on his shoulder, comforting. "Let's work on it. Together. We'll get him."

Morgan only nods.

* * *

Emily thinks she knows why Morgan is this upset. Because there has to be some explanation, right? Other than him being beaten, watching his partner being killed in front of him (and in front of said partner's daughter, this had to bring bad childhood memories), worrying about a child being snatched by a monster when he couldn't do anything about it (aren't there memories of something similar too?; she's never really been certain). Yeah, Morgan has plenty to be upset about.

Still, she thinks his reactions are a little over-the-top. He's throwing verbal punches left and right like there's no tomorrow. She knows she'll be asking for one when she sees him at the coffeemaker and decides to approach him.

Touch him, or not? Emily hesitates only for a second, rubs his arm but snatches her hand away the moment he turns to her. Awkward.

"Kristin," she starts, "wanted me to tell you she's sorry she made you promise her brother." She tries to repeat those words exactly the way they were said. "She believed it wasn't fair. You wanna tell me what she made you promise?" Emily is certain there's the answer in that. There's the key to Morgan's behavior.

Indeed. "That I wouldn't let anything happen to Ellie," he says softly, his voice vaguely bitter.

Emily nods to herself. She was right, a burden like this can wreck havoc with one's head.

"Well, she's right, it's not fair."

Morgan turns to her, his eyes razor-sharp.

"And why do you think it makes a difference?" he asks and she doesn't understand. "Fair, not fair. I can't believe how naïve you are Emily Prentiss." He walks away brushing past her, bodily pushing her out of the way and into the table. The edge bites her thigh and she almost yelps, clutching her aching muscle, bewildered. He'd never deliberately caused her pain!

She wants to call after him but he's too far away already and there's Detective Kurzbard and Hotch and obviously there's something new in their investigation because they all act rather frantic, so Emily limps to them and focuses on the case. Once it's over, she thinks, there will be plenty of time to worry about Morgan.

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t.b.c.

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story! I'm also flattered that it's being added to alerts and favorites, but I won't hide that getting a review is more rewarding. Don't be shy, I like to interact with my readers. :)


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